


You Have A Name

by JahStorybook



Series: Point Man's Name [1]
Category: F.E.A.R. (Video Games)
Genre: Brothers, Come Kink, Consent, Don't shoot the messenger, Incest, M/M, Rough Sex, Smut, slight BDSM?, straight up smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25066732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JahStorybook/pseuds/JahStorybook
Summary: Look this is just smut. Short, explicit(?) smut where Fettel tops a somewhat innocent Point Man.I brought a relationship tag back from the dead for this for crying out loud, just read the smut.
Relationships: Paxton Fettel/Point Man (F.E.A.R.)
Series: Point Man's Name [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815439
Comments: 9
Kudos: 9





	You Have A Name

Dear big brother could kill anyone, everyone. 

Dear big brother was strong minded and stubborn. 

Dear big brother took many lives for no good reason.

It almost made Fettel proud. He  _ would  _ be proud. If the bloodshed at his brother’s feet had been left at will, if he’d chosen to murder those clones, those ATC, he’d be delighted. But Fettel knew better than anyone that Point hadn’t gotten a choice, not a real choice. 

They’d pulled him around on puppet strings, stuffed a gun in his hands at just eighteen and took everything else away. Even now, as he watched the point man fight off hordes of maddened citizens all plying for a piece of them, Fettel was furious at the lack of free will.

“You know, she thinks you love her.” Point Man thought about his feelings for her, about the admiration of her skills and confidence. Fettel laughed at him..

“Yes, yes, you’ve made it quite clear how… close, you are. But you don’t love her.” He had seen strangers more attracted to each other than the two soldiers. Still, the Point Man seems insistant. “Tell me, then, big brother. If you love her so much what would you do if you had her?”

There was blissful silence, even in his thoughts. Fettel was about to claim victory, when the image of the two holding hands filled his head. 

“You would hold her hand? What are you, eight?” Point man ignored him, taking a moment to sit down and rest. Fettel glanced around, noting they were now in an attic, the windows boarded up by desperate people hiding from the chaos outside. 

“It is not that I doubt such a love exists as bland as that, dear brother, but I have lived in your head. I know about every desire you have, even if you don’t know them, yet.” He was met with more silence, this one an awkward lull. “You really don’t know about them, do you?”

How long had they kept him asleep, kept him obedient and unquestioning? Even Fettel got to keep his memories, his time as just Paxton the child, as horrifying as it had been. Sensing his anger, or maybe just deciding it was time to keep moving, the Point Man tried standing up. Fettel stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“They’ve taken everything from you,” he said, eyes glaring past his brother’s unconcerned ones into the desperate thoughts swirling his head. It would be so easy to give all that back, in time. Put back the pieces he’d been stripped of. Starting with… “You don’t even remember your name. They didn’t give you one, but I did. We were experiments, not people, but as kids we were one and the same.”

There is need in his face, then, and Fettel knows he’s desperate for any amount of knowledge he’d lost.

“Yes, you have a name. From the moment we met, I called you… Brother.” He feels the tension under his hand, sees the growing anger. It doesn’t stop him, merely provokes him to continue. They would never be puppets on a string again.

“How can you claim to love someone, to be loved, when you are little more than a ghost? She doesn’t know you, not really.” Once more he tries to stand, brushing Fettel’s hand off his shoulder. As soon as he’s up, Fettel pins him to the wall.

_ Get off,  _ he’s thinking, eyes dark. He makes no move to force him off.

“Let me show you the first thing you were robbed of,” Fettel says, not letting up. Instead, he shoves his hand down the front of his brother’s pants, only to be met with no resistance. Looking down, then back up, he finds his brother passively watching him, no shame or embarrassment on his face. For a staggering moment, he thinks that the man is truly amazing to keep his face so clouded.

And then he finds the emptiness again and knows that’s not the case. There are memories, faint and far past ones, of doctors and hands on him, but no memories of pleasure. Only confusion. Fettel snarls.

“This! This is what I mean! You are no better than a child, sheltered and controlled!” It is with half anger, half lust, that he grips the completely soft cock in his brother’s pants, unzipping and dragging his pants down to pull it free. 

The Point Man, breath hitching, stays completely still. Fettel isn’t comforted by this, but it’d be a lie to say it didn’t excite him. His brother, the killer, letting him do whatever he wanted. 

He could give a damn that they share blood, that they share a mother. Fettel is no saint, is no rule abiding man. If he wants to take his brother, right here against the wall of an attic, then he just might.

He gives the thing in his hands a stroke, then, teasing the Point Man just barely. How good it feels, too, to tease. He feels it faintly, through their connection, and it fills him with want. 

Whatever his brother is thinking, feeling, he does not make a single move. When Fettel strips his pants further, letting them fall to his knees, he looks like he might object. As usual, he does not speak. 

In his head are questions, though. Why are they doing this? What is Fettel planning to show him? What is this? He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even acknowledge that the questions are there. He’ll see soon enough.

Fettel may be dead, in most senses of the word, but he is anything but a mere ghost. His hands, one stroking his brother almost gently and the other keeping him nailed to the wall, are solid, warm. When he lets go of him to turn him around, his brother does so willingly. 

“You are not a machine,” he growls, hand slipping around to continue jerking him off as he slides against him. “They wanted you unnamed, with no personality, no feelings. Your purpose is not to be efficient and effective, you are meant for so much more than that.”

There’s no argument from his brother, just a hand dropping down to grip his arm tightly. Fettel looks down at his hand, at the red glow emanating from his skin. He used it to grab the Point Man’s ass, nails digging in sharply. 

Letting go, he let just one finger slip into him, earning a grunt from his brother, the only noise he’d heard from him in weeks. Fettel didn’t stop, though, didn’t pull it out even when his brother’s legs started to tremble. He worked it in a small circle, humming in his brother’s ear. 

“Thirty years and you never knew how good you could feel.” Fettel wasn’t going to take it slow, not when they had important things to do, but he certainly savored every moment it took to pull his finger out just enough to pull him wider and press the tip of his cock to the contracting hole. He hummed a low groan as he practically held the hole open for himself. It might have hurt, forcing it in, but other than the hand wrapped around his arm tightening, his brother gave no protest. Fettel used that very arm to support the Point Man’s weight when he gave the first thrust and his brother’s legs gave out for a moment. 

It was hard and fast, with Fettel taking great joy in every second and every feeling. His brother was a mess, practically bouncing up and down on his cock from the force of being rammed into the wall. Fettel wasn’t sure if it was the friction that motion caused against his own hand that made the Point Man cum, or if it was the hot seed spilling into him as Fettel pumped him full.

He hissed at it, as if burned, and yet Fettel felt only pleasure, only ease between them. Neither of them had ever been too bothered by pain, though, so maybe it was both. 

“Do you feel it now, dear brother? Our connection?” He’d never meant it so literally, pulling out to thrust back in, letting the overstimulation turn his brother into a quivering mess. He had mercy after it clearly became too much, the Point Man squeezing his arm and arching away from his hand. He let go, stepping back. 

“Now that we’ve cleared that up, rest for a minute, but we have to keep moving,” he said, turning away to put his dick back in his own pants. Unsurprisingly, his brother collapsed to his knees, resting his head against the wall. For the supposed disappointment of the two, he’d certainly served well for Fettel. 

His anger had dissipated, leaving only amusement and lingering pleasure, as well as a faint pride he couldn’t pinpoint the origin of. His brother was feeling so much more. Confused, being the main thing. 

Fettel watched as he righted his clothes, then immediately tugged his pants back down, whirling around with wide eyes as he straightened up onto his knees.

“Worried it’ll all spill out,” he asked, tone mocking but not unkind. He watched as his brother, almost panicked, looked around, uncertain. While he enjoyed the rare moment of weakness, he kneeled down. Taking the only thing he had, a filthy torn scarf, he shoved his brother on his back and used it to stop the cum leaking between his legs.

“Keep it in. I think you’ll find having a part of me in you strengthens our psychic link.” While that was definitely a possibility, Fettel just liked the thought of his brother, the big bad killer, walking around full of his cum.

The thought led to other thoughts, ideas, and after they found Mother he’d be sure to test every single one.


End file.
